Don't Mention the Z Word
by DIY Sheep
Summary: House of the Dead: Now with updates from Greg House's new book: Your Zombie and You.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey there big fella, not so snappy." He smiled apologetically at the moron. "You have to excuse him. He does get a little bitey."

Surprisingly this did not calm the clinic patient down. Instead he stumbled backward into the door and pointed with horror. "That's … that's …"

"Yes that is right. That is my best friend in the whole wide world."

"But he's…"

He smiled sarcastically. "I know, but we try not to mention it." This did no good and the patient bolted.

"House!"

He winced as the cry echoed around the clinic. He tugged on the chain and House and his best friend made their way to the clinic waiting room where 'The Evil One' was tapping her expensively clad foot.

"I have told you not to bring Wilson into work," she admonished. "You know how people feel about zombies."

He shushed her with his hand. "Don't use the Z word."

"The what word?"

He came closer. "The Z word," he hissed. "He's sensitive," he said petulantly, then abruptly turned around. "Stop sniffing my neck Wilson," he said calmly. "We have talked about this before haven't we? It is not polite to eat peoples' brains." He frowned. "I don't know why you want them anyway. For a starters you are dead and therefore your digestive tract doesn't even work; and most of the people who come into this clinic are morons, so you'd just get indigestion." Wilson just groaned. He gave him a little pat on the back, but snatched his hand back when Wilson lunged for it.

Cuddy was not impressed with his display of 'Zombie Love'. "House, I am not going to discuss Zombie rights with you. I don't care what you do with him, just get him out of this clinic." She threw up her hands. "Give him to Chase to look after."

House actually looked a bit embarrassed. "He ate Chase."

"Cameron?"

"Lunch, yesterday."

"Foreman?"

He just ran a hand across his throat. "Not so street smart as he thought he was."

"Is there anyone who could take him while you do clinic."

"Brenda?"

"What?"

He pointed to where she was currently terrorizing an intern. "She could handle him."

"Why Nurse Brenda?"

"Because she is evil."

"Nurse Brenda is not evil."

"Oh Nurse Brenda is so obviously evil. Did you know her head can revolve 360 degrees?"

Cuddy paused. "Really."

He nodded enthusiastically. "She is so the antichrist and her current squeeze is a blonde fang boy called Spike. He keeps eyeing me off – and not for my perky buns."

"But she does keep up to date on the paperwork."

He had to admit that was a plus, especially now that Cameron had been eaten. He wondered if he could train Wilson to do paperwork? Nah - He'd probably just drool on it.

They looked over to Nurse Brenda's station.

"You know I always did wonder about the goat slaughtering thing," said Cuddy thoughtfully. "I just put it down to the fact that nurses were quirky."


	2. Zombie lurve

Beth XT wanted a bit more of House/Zombie Wilson lurve. I am still getting around to the House/Bendy lamp he has in his office lurve – but Doctor Scruffy has hijacked that one and is currently doing bad bad things with that poor unsuspecting lamp.

However as the bastard Internet man came around and stuck a shovel through my cable connection on a long weekend I am deprived and unhappy and zombie Wilson would really come in handy. Although I suspect that my internet provider is already All Zombie, All the Time! Already.

For those of you in the know – Buy Telstra shares. Hey let's privatize Telstra. No – it will be good for the economy. It won't cost jobs. We won't rip out all the pay phones - we promise. No little kiddies will die because we couldn't be bothered to send someone round to fix their phone and they couldn't call for help. Really – and the share prices won't consistently plummet, thus ripping off all those Australians who bought shares in a company that they previously already owned. And no – there is nothing odd about that last statement. Nothing in life is free you know, especially things that used to be free.

Thank you Mr Howard.

Okay – rant about privatizing government services over. Look – you can skip the author's notes if you want. Just scroll down and go straight to the Zombie lurve.

But the author's notes do involve Zombies too. And it is a short story anyway. So what the heck: You've come this far. Knock yourself out, go with the flow and read my continuing adventures with Zombie Telstra.

I should have known my Internet provider is run by Zombies. There I am saying 'hey look – the cabling is sparking because you stuck a spade through it' and the only response – 'brains'.

I should have seen the signs.

And then, after being on hold for five hours waiting to convince them that there was a mysterious connection between a moron, a spade and my cable – and no, turning the computer on and off wasn't going to cut the mustard no matter how much the recorded message said this was the way to the end of my computer problems, world peace and puppies raining from the sky; I couldn't find anyone with any brains working there.

A coincidence?

I think not!

Wilson had got there and eaten the lot.

I pointed out that as they had broken it, they might like to come and unbreak it – today, now, right now or the bunny gets it. But Telstra-Zombie Inc said that would be far too sensible and would I mind just holding the line while they transferred me to Deli so Apu could fill out a 427 B maintenance form, which he would email over to Vladimir in Something-er-other-stan, and that it should all be sorted out by the time the troops are home from Iraq.

I mentioned that the truck was just doing some work around the corner and I could pop over there and ask politely if they would do that thing where they twist the end of the wires together, but no, said Mohammed El Afiri, they couldn't possible do that. Then he put me on hold so I could listen to another hour of bad cover versions of 'I am Australian' (because Australia Day was coming up and that meant that everything shuts down, moron Zombie Telstra workers get to have a big piss up to celebrate the Australian spirit of buggering up my internet connection, and that I would have to suffer in silence because All Zombie Telstra's customer relations policy involves the words 'bugger' and 'off'.)

Hence, although I have 101 more practical and money inducing things to actually write – Zombie lurve called me like a siren song.

Because, after all – who doesn't love a Zombie?

And unlike relatives, who you can't pick and are just thrust upon you and then you spend years building up a seething resentment of them, you can chose your Zombies.

Hence Zombie lurve. Although sometimes: Zombies, relatives – who can tell them apart. Not around my place that's for sure. But fortunately Christmas is over and we only have the Zombies to contend with. Give me a Zombie any day. They make more sense and are much more witty.

And we know about House's relatives – abusive father hitting the egg nog, wussy mom with no sense of humour and Aunt Sara can't cook for peanuts. Boy, Christmas must have been a hoot at the House's. That's why House's idea of a nice quiet Christmas celebration is him, a bottle of whiskey and a whole bunch of Oxycodone.

But on to the Zombie lurve…

…

* * *

**THE CARE AND LOVE OF ZOMBIES: YOUR ZOMBIE AND YOU**

**By Doctor Gregory House. **

…

**Chapter 3: Just because he is the walking undead doesn't mean he doesn't like a nice wine with dinner: Zombie entertaining:**

Zombies love going out. They are friendly social guys and love to sink their teeth into new situations – and people. An all you can eat buffet is a good idea if you don't want your Zombie ruining your social life though because they can certainly chew through friends, colleagues, co-workers and ply wood doors.

…

"Brains."

"Oh come on Wilson. How about something different this time."

"Brains."

"Wilson – I hate it when you do that and it isn't hygienic. Get away from the buffet and stop drooling into the Waldorf salad."

"Brains."

"That's not a brain. That is a plastic banana. It will taste terrible."

"Brains."

"I told you."

"Brains."

"They don't have brains here Wilson."

"Brains."

"How about meat. You like meat – no, not my arm."

"Brains."

"I liked you when you were all manipulative and a witty conversationalist better. Yeah, yeah, yeah! I know – Brains! But you can't always get what you want. But sometimes you get what you need. And you need a nice juicy steak. So what do you say?"

"Brains."

"That's my boy. A Reuben sandwich and a steak please. A rare steak. A very rare steak."

"I'm sorry sir, but we can't do steaks today. The cooks off."

"I'd advise you to do a steak today. You don't even have to cook it – just whack it on a plate, shove a sprig of parsley on it and run away. And I'll pay for the banana too – oh, and that chair."

"Oh my God. What is that man doing?"

"No Wilson. Don't eat the nice lady's tablecloth… No Wilson. Don't eat the nice lady."

"You know Wilson, when the sign said an all you can eat buffet I don't think they meant this kind."

…

**Chapter 6: Making sure your Zombie eats right:**

In the same way that you might be lactose intolerant and must buy soy milk, your Zombie also has special needs and you need to get him the right kind of food.

Zombies are fussy eaters. It is a bit like living with a kid who only eats peanut butter sandwiches.

The peanut butter sandwich of heaven for your Zombie are brains, but meat seems to make him happy too. He really does enjoy his meat rare and bloody (preferably still bleeding and screaming). You can buy brains and meat at all good butchers (and if they are out, remember - all good butchers have brains).

But while store bought produce is all very well, it helps if you try to vary his diet a bit with something fresh. Why not take him along to dinner with work colleagues you don't like, take him to meet the dad and let him help you work through those pesky childhood issues, or that meeting with the IRS? He's sure to liven up the occasion and he will enjoy the change of diet. And you'll never be audited again.

…

"House, how come every body in the morgue is missing something cranium related?"

"No idea."

"And how come the morgue attendant is also missing?"

"No idea."

"House - did you feed the morgue attendant to Wilson?"

"Awe, come on – how can you resist him when he looks at you with those big puppy dog eyes."

"One puppy dog eye. The left one fell out last week in the middle of the clinic."

"I got him a glass one."

"No – that is a ping pong ball with a pupil drawn on it on with a whiteboard marker."

"It does the trick."

"He looks like that cartoon character Mr Stabby. How did you manage to shove it in there anyway?" She put her hands to her head. "Oh forget I asked."

"Hey, it's better than him eating fellows. All that expensive schooling, me taking the time to go through the application process, blah blah blah - and then it's snack time. It was a pity too. Chase had such promise. Cameron and Foreman – meh," he said waggling his hand.

"But morgue attendants are minimum wage," House continued. "You can hire more. In fact – hire a couple of dozen. Catering for him is a bitch and he's eaten all the French chefs in town. And they are they only people who do a really good rare steak. Besides, he is making friends with the new fellows and it would be shame if he ate them."

House gestured to the conference room. "See, they love him."

She looked over. One of House's new interns was trying to fend off Wilson with a chair and the other was hiding under the table. She folded her arms and looked at him.

House sighed to himself and limped over to the door. "How many years of medical school?" he yelled as he opened the door. "That's what the shovel is for you morons. Just hit him over the head with it and he'll be out for about an hour."

…

**Chapter 12: Don't let that whole undead thing fool you: Zombies can be contributing members of society.**

Unfortunately because of the number of people they tend to eat there can be some Zombie discrimination in the work force, but more and more Zombies are being accepted as an integral part of modern day society.

There are strategies to deal with Zombie discrimination in the work force in a non-confrontational manner:

If someone says that they don't like working with a Zombie because he ate their co worker: just think positive and remind them that they never really liked their co worker anyway because he gave them crappy novelty soap as Christmas presents.

When they mention that the Zombie also ate the crappy novelty soap, you can just remind them that at least they still have all their fingers and toes, but that situation can be rectified.

If someone says that your Zombie ate their chair you have two options. You can offer to replace the chair or provide suitable remuneration, but a more effective method is just to lock them in a room with the Zombie and tell them to sort it out themselves. This has the added benefit of saving you from having to buy the Zombie lunch in the cafeteria.

Another excellent strategy when faced with Zombie discrimination is just to point out how stupid most people are at your work place anyway, so no one is really going to notice.

…

"Has anyone noticed your head of oncology is a Zombie?"

"No. Actually he has correctly diagnosed brain cancer three times this month – although I think that just could be the law of averages. But none of the board seem to have noticed."

"Well he fits right in sitting on the hospital board doesn't he. Zombies the lot of them probably."

"He eats people House. He ate my new secretary – and she was very good too."

"Oh come on: eat is such a pejorative word."

"How else would you describe it?"

"Nibble?"

"There is no nibbling about it! There is gnawing and sucking and screaming and limbs flying and general nastiness." She sighed. "The cleaning staff are up in arms."

"The ones Wilson hasn't eaten that is," laughed House.

"House. This is serious. I cannot have people running around this hospital eating people."

"He doesn't actually run. He more sort of lurches. He's easy to outrun."

"Tell that to Mrs Ormani with the hip replacement."

House winced. "Oh damn."

"For God's sake House: put him to some good use."

House thought for a moment. "I got it," he said with a smile.

…

"Hey Detective Tritter. I'd like you to meet my friend Wilson."

…

**Chapter: 26: Zen and the joy of a Zombie:**

All in all, while caring for a Zombie does present many challenges, the joy of spending time with the big decomposing lug – throwing shanks of meat for him to fetch (and eat), running away from him in the park, the endless conversations you can have about brains - far outweighs the demands that the special care that your Zombie needs.

Just remember to keep him away from any relatives you may actually like or boy will your face be red come next family Christmas. My mom still hasn't forgiven me for Aunt Sara.

Remember: the undead are people too (just slightly smellier).

Spread the undead love.

Gregory House

2007


	3. Chapter 3

House was in a good mood. He had spied a couple of Mormons going door to door up the street. Cool, he thought. He loved Mormons, and more importantly so did Wilson. Wilson was very ecumenical when it came to his eating habits. He embraced (and ate) people of all religions.

And Mormons were so handy when he couldn't be bothered going out. They came delivered right to your door and you didn't even have to tip. If only he could find some way of getting them to bring a pizza with them it would be perfect. Pizza boys were all very well, but they had got wise and stopped delivering after a while and just like a Zombie, a man needed his sustenance.

But House's high spirits were crushed when he opened the door of his flat. He surveyed the wreckage. There were half gnawed books all over the place. Oh shit. Wilson had got free. God that man could chew through titanium.

Please let him still be here, he thought. I just bought Mrs Beluski in 221A a new cat and it had cost a fortune. Apparently that mangy looking thing was, sorry - had been, some sort of rare Russian breed.

It was all Cuddy's fault so he firmly blamed her. She'd made House leave him at home after he'd washed Wilson by pushing him into the hospital swimming pool and throwing a packet of laundry detergent in after him. He'd needed it. He'd been getting smelly and Nurse Brenda had been complaining about the rotting meat smell. It wasn't his fault. Who knew zombies were so fast in water? You wouldn't have guessed it from the way they move on land.

But that, and the aqua aerobics class going on down the shallow end, had perked Wilson right up. Which was good because House had been a bit worried about him lately. He just hadn't seemed his usual brain loving happy self.

Although, he mused, Cuddy's sudden Zombie intolerance could have been set off by the mysterious disappearance of Doctor Whitner. And it actually wasn't all that mysterious. He had come back from the lab one day to find Wilson happily playing in his office with a motorized wheelchair wheel.

Still it wasn't all bad: at least he'd got his parking spot back. I told you not to mess with me and my Zombie: but did you listen lady? Noooo!

He picked up the baseball bat he kept by the door and listened carefully. He'd left Wilson securely chained with an entire leg of lamb and the whole Nightmare of Elm Street series. But you know Zombies. It was always 'brains', 'brains' and more 'brains'.

Then he heard a small groan coming from the kitchen. Bingo! One found Zombie and hopefully Mr Biggles The Second was still walking the earth.

"Aww Jesus Wilson, have you been trying to eat the kitchen table again? You know it gives you indigestion." he started as he rounded the couch. But then he stopped when he spied the pitiful little chewed up mess on the floor and Wilson sitting next to it looking very pleased with himself, little bits of fluff sticking out of his mouth.

"Oh God Wilson! What have you done?"

"Brains," said Wilson happily.

But House just frowned. "You know, for a dead guy you can be very dense sometimes. We discussed this didn't we?"

"Brains?" said Wilson hopefully.

"No Wilson. This time you have gone too far," he said. "I'm pissed Wilson. Very very annoyed. Get that through your decomposing skull."

Wilson seemed to realise he had done something wrong and lurched over to hide under the piano. He groaned again.

"It's your own fault if you feel ill," he shot over at him. Wilson peered mournfully at him over the top of the keyboard.

House looked down at the corpse at his feet. He picked it up, cradled it in his hands and regarded it sorrowfully.

The bastard had eaten his favourite gray beanie.

…

That little 'tea cosy thing for the head' that House wears in Needle in a Haystack is called a beanie in Australia, a knit/stocking cap in America and a touque in Canada. Any suggestion for Great Britain very much appreciated: hang on – the Brits have been weighing in and it's beanie there too apparently. And Sam says that in Germany it is called a warmhaltehaube (which presumably means small furry warm hat).


End file.
